X-POP3-Rcpt: fkarchiver@pulsar.skyport.net Return-Path: br1035@ix.netcom.com From: br1035@ix.netcom.com Date: Fri, 30 May 1997 20:46:23 -0500 (CDT) To: FKarchiver@fkfanfic.com Subject: Better Than Chocolate This story is dedicated to Annie Raper in honor of her birthday, May 25, 1997, and her being such a wonderful friend. The Real Life People who appear in this fan fiction gave their full consent and encouragement, as well as some suggestions. {{{Hugs, guys!}}} Tenny Richebourg appears from "A Lesson In Manners" by Ann Raper. Lyrics to "Nina, Pretty Ballerina" and "Bang-A-Boomerang" by Anderssen/Ulvaeus Lyrics to "Getting to Know You" by Oscar Hammerstein II Standard Disclaimers Apply: The characters of "Forever Knight" were created by Parriott, et al., and are owned by Columbia/Tristar. ************************************************************************ Better than Chocolate by Bonnie Rutledge and Jules Stafford Copyright 1997 Part One: Time: A Sufficient Period Before Someone's Birthday To Make Devious Plans "You know Sunday is her birthday - what are we going to do? I mean, what are *you* going to do, seeing as how I don't indulge in the usual celebratory events," Jules said as she clutched to her phone like a lifeline. She was about to have a new friend, and its name was panic. "You're panicking - why are you panicking?" Bonnie wailed on the other end of the line. "At least you sent her an 'I'm glad you are my friend' card, Jules. I haven't done anything yet!" "Well, think! What would be the most perfect thing we could get Annie?" Bonnie answered reflexively. "Nunkies." Jules began to laugh. "Oh, yeah, that'll happen..." There was a thoughtful pause. "Wait - on second thought, it might not be such a crazy idea. I've a bounty of Infrequent Flyer Miles saved up, and, when I'm not here, I *am* the Nunks' personal assistant anyway, so...What if we took Annie on a trip to Toronto as a surprise?" "The 'Nunks'?" Bonnie asked, incredulous. Jules rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, glad that Bons couldn't see her turning forty shades of red. "Um. Just forget I said that, OK?" "No way, Jules. Now back to our plan. We get to go, too? That's my kind of surprise! You know, Jules, I don't see why we can't engineer a tour of CERK radio, as well." "It will be perfect - better than chocolate!" "We'll be able to push Annie over with a feather!" Bonnie agreed. Smoke began to rise from the telephone lines as the two conjured up their plans. **************************************************************** Time: Friday the 23rd Annie released a harried breath and leaned against the front door. She had never experienced such an unpleasant job interview in her life! The newspaper advertisement had called for a short-term personal assistant. She needed a temporary job that would last the summer, and the salary had been fabulous, so she'd responded to the ad. What the paper had failed to mention was that her prospective employer was the one and only Rodrigo Iwhine -the infamous Hawaiian sex therapist. He intended to spend the summer traveling throughout Arkansas and presenting his seminar called "Are You A Kahuna Of Love?" to interested Razorbacks. Annie wasn't interested. Her interest waned the moment he introduced himself. "Rodrigo Iwhine - but everyone calls me 'The Big Rod'. You look like a tasty wahini - how do you feel about hula skirts as an office uniform?" That was the end of that. When Rod tried to circumvent Annie's departure, she landed a solid *Poi!* upside his skull. She was back at Libby's house now, exasperated, irritated, and, unfortunately, still unemployed. On a positive note, though, she had no reason to keep wearing her heels and hose for the rest of the day. She almost balanced out. Annie slipped off her shoes and padded the rest of the way to her bedroom. She paused and frowned. The door was ajar, and Annie could've sworn she'd left it closed when she left. It was necessary. Otherwise... "Ack!" Annie yelped as she found her wardrobe chest disturbed. One drawer was pulled open with pieces of silk hanging over the side. She peered inside and released an outraged wail. Screed was in her lingerie - AGAIN! Annie opened her mouth to deliver a bellow that would register at least a 4.6 on the Richter scale when a hand lassoed her from behind. An enormous wad of cotton that smelled very foul covered her nostrils. Suddenly Annie felt very...felt very...very...ve... Unconscious. Jules forehead crinkled as she observed Annie's crumpled form. "Somehow this wasn't what I first pictured when you said we'd be able to push her over with a feather." Bonnie gave Screed a pat on the head and shooed him toward his trundle. "Don't worry. When she comes to and gets over the hangover, Annie'll be thrilled. Trust me." She went to the closet, pulling out a packed carry-all from its hiding place. "Now all we have to do is get her into her birthday costume and into the car." Jules grinned at that. "The outfit *is* a nice touch. Very NA. I'll get started on that. Meanwhile, why don't you leave Libby a note and tell her how things are progressing thus far." Bonnie agreed and went in search of pen and paper. Being Bonnie, she asked a cat for directions. "Hello, Sunshine! Can you tell me where your Mommy keeps the writing stuff?" The feline hissed her recommendation. Bonnie's eyes fell joyously on her goals. "Why, thank you, Sunshine!" She penned a brief, but informative note: LIBBY, 'Operation: Bag-A-Bug' is well underway! Plan A was a complete success! More from T.O.! JULES AND BONS Bonnie intended to tape the note to the refrigerator, but had second thoughts. Jules was just finishing up when Bonnie returned. "There - I'm done! All we have to do is carry her to the car. I'll grab her shoulders while you take her feet and the carry-all." They supported/dragged Annie's benumbed form to the front door and succeeded in dropping her only twice. "By the way," Jules asked. "How long before Annie comes to?" "Long enough," Bonnie replied. "I gave her the good stuff. It's guaranteed to keep her comatose until she needs to wake up for a plot device." She grimaced. "Watch her head!" *Whunk!* "Oops! Sorry." ********************************************************************* Time: Not much later Place: Adams Field Airport, Little Rock Bonnie pulled the car up to the curb with a screech. "Do you want to drag her to the terminal? I'll turn in the rental car, grab our luggage, and meet you there." "Sure," Jules said, then turned to roll Annie out onto the pavement. "No problem." After Bons drove off, Jules pilfered a luggage cart from an unsuspecting clerk. Heaving Annie's still form on top, she wheeled the body to the appropriate airline desk to pick up their boarding passes. The flight clerk repeatedly glanced around the counter, frowning at the body. Finally he could not resist temptation any longer and asked, "What's with the clothing? Did she go to one of those 'Are You A Kahuna Of Love' seminars?" "No!" Jules exclaimed indignantly as she twitched her eyebrows ferociously. "That is *not* a muumuu." The clerk appeared appropriately sheepish and shrugged apologetically. "My mistake." He peered closely at Annie again then commented, "She's not dead, is she? Airline policy prohibits dead people on board without the proper paperwork." Jules reacted with curiosity. "What about animate dead people? Surely your rules don't apply to them?" "What?!" "The undead!" she repeated. "Surely you don't - oh, never mind...Don't worry, she's just comatose." "Really?" the clerk replied. "Kewl!" He handed over three boarding passes with a happy smile. Jules wheeled Annie over to a row of chairs in the waiting area. The arrival board claimed their flight was on time for departure. That meant Jules had fifteen minutes to occupy before boarding. It would be plenty of time for Bons to turn the rental car in and join her. She plopped her friend's body across four seats, returned the luggage cart to a distant, untraceable-to-her location, then proceeded to wait. Time passes slowly, however, when your only company is insensate. Jules noticed a coloring book and crayon left behind by one of the waiting room's previous tenants. She picked them up and began to doodle. MR. & MRS. LUCIAN LACROIX...MRS. L. LACROIX...MS. J.S. LACROIX ... JULIE STAFFORD-LACROIX...JULES LACROIX...MRS. NUNKIES ... MADAME GENERAL JULES...LAJULES... The minutes passed quickly. An announcement came over the sound system that their flight was boarding. Jules scanned the area worriedly. Bonnie was nowhere in sight. Jules looked at Annie, the gateway, then the open terminal. She espied some wheelchairs-for-hire across the concourse, yelled "Look! A dinosaur!" to distract the employee guarding them, then sped one to Annie's side. Jules pushed the chair-bound Annie to the pair of flight attendants monitoring the boarding tunnel and offered them one of the boarding passes. "Could you escort my friend on board? Just dump her into a seat and she'll be fine. She's a very sound sleeper." Watching the attendant wheel Annie down the passage to the plane, Jules gave a satisfied smile, then turned purposefully for the concourse. Now she needed to locate Bonnie. ******************************************************************* Little old ladies and children screamed as she zipped past. "Outta my way!" Bonnie shouted as she honked the horn on her golf-cart-like vehicle. "Outta my way, you - you - pedestrians!" She vroom-ed past Jules, who was running in the opposite direction. She slammed on the cart's brakes, then slipped into a slow reverse to stay on par with Jules. "What are you doing?" Bonnie asked. "I'm looking for *you*," Jules complained. "What happened?" Bonnie made a yuck-face. "The rental car nazis insisted that we turned our car in two days ago. I told them that we hadn't even rented the car two days ago, but the fella wouldn't take it back. Naturally, I became embroiled in a debate about the issue. That is, until I saw how late it was getting. Then I drove the car so that it blocked the agency's entrance, crawled underneath, and slid the keys under the door." Her expression was wicked. "He was hysterical by the time I left. My last words were, 'The customer is always right', but I'm not sure he heard me through the glass." "Fascinating," Jules commented. "I'm glad I'm on your side." "Hey! Aren't we going the wrong way?" Bonnie observed. Jules stopped jogging and got into the cart. "We are. I just got enthralled in your story. To the plane!" Bonnie snapped the vehicle out of reverse and began tearing through the terminal again. "Where's Annie?" "She's already on the plane." There was a thump, followed by a squawking sound. "What'd I hit? What'd I hit?" Bonnie squealed. Jules turned around and studied their aftermath. "Just a couple executives from Dillard's Department Stores." Bonnie gave a relieved sigh. "Good. I was worried that I hit someone important." Up ahead, Bonnie and Jules spotted a crowd that blocked the concourse. "They weren't here when I left," Jules murmured. Bonnie braked the cart to a stop next to a couple on the throng's outer fringes. "Excuse me. Could you tell us what's happening, please?" "Yeah," the woman answered. "Some people said they saw a veloceraptor running through the terminal. One woman went into labor. They're claiming they have it cornered near the wheelchair stand right now." "Gee," Bonnie mused. "I wonder what made anyone think they saw a dinosaur in a Little Rock airport?" "I can't imagine," Jules replied innocently. "We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot." Bonnie grabbed two pieces of luggage from the back of the cart while Jules picked up the third. "Pardon us! 'Scuse us! Coming through!" They pushed through the hordes of people and finally stumbled into their waiting room ten minutes later. From the observation windows looking out over the airfield, they could see a jet whoosh! from the runway. "Ooo! Jules, look at the pretty plane!" Jules observed the closed gateway entrance to their flight. "Bons, I think that was *our* pretty plane! And Annie's on it!" Bonnie gasped. "Ohmigawsh! What'll we do? What's plan B?" "That was plan B." "Well, let's think of another plan B." "We can just take a later flight, then catch up with Annie," Jules suggested. They approached the desk clerk and attempted arranging immediate transport to Toronto. Unfortunately, all the direct flights were booked solid for the next three days. The best they could get was a connecting flight with a stopovers in Nashville and Cincinnati that would deliver them to Toronto on Saturday at dusk. As they settled into their seats for the flight to Nashville, Bonnie lamented, "It's too bad we couldn't get Business Class this time." "That's the least of our worries. Annie is going to arrive in Toronto over 24 hours ahead of us - what if she gets into trouble?" "She'll be unconscious in an airport. How could she get into trouble?" ************************************************************************** End O' Part One Better Than Chocolate by Jules and Bonnie Part Two: Time: Friday the 23rd , Late Afternoon Place: In and Around Pearson International Airport, Toronto "Excuse me, miss? We're going to land." Annie thought she felt a hand gently shaking her arm. She squinted groggily at the body part. Yes, it was a hand. She inspected what it was shaking. Yes, it was an arm. She let her eyes trail upward. The arm was attached to her body - it was her arm! Annie smiled, strangely thrilled to recognize her appendage. As for the voice, Annie couldn't dismiss the possibility that she was talking to herself, but her voice wasn't nearly so low, and it lacked her Texan accent. No, the accent she heard sounded more...Italian. She decided to examine the individual attached to the hand that still rested on her arm. Annie deduced very quickly that it wasn't her arm - she'd never been quite so big. She was fairly certain this was another person entirely. Lifting her eyes upward confirmed this suspicion. The person speaking, urging her awake was tall, muscular, and very male. He was Italian. He *had* to be with all that curly dark hair. He was grinning at her, a grin that reached the depths of his storm-gray eyes. "Hello," Annie said. She looked at him as though she hadn't had a meal all week and he was a worthy plate of Ziti alla Sorrento. To her embarrassment, her stomach growled. Perhaps he didn't hear the sound, or maybe he was simply too much of a gentleman to acknowledge it. Either way, he was perfect. He spoke again, instead. "Hello. I thought you might sleep the entire flight. You've been curled up in that seat like an angel since I boarded. I've been silently willing you to wake up for hours. I suppose you could say I finally took matters into my own hands, eh?" He winked at her rakishly. "If I've disturbed you, I apologize." Annie shook her head. "Oh, no, thank you. I needed to wake up," she began as she glanced around her foreign surroundings, "and get my bearings straight." She felt a small wave of alarm float through her. she thought. She looked behind and in front of her seat for a familiar face. The Italian had noticed her eyes searching the plane. "Are you with someone?" Annie watched him curiously. "Uh...what do *you* think?" "I think that you are traveling alone?" he guessed. She laughed nervously. "I think you're right." He smiled broadly then, and she momentarily went blind. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Vincente Leotta, and I am pleased to meet you, Ms...?" "Raper. Ann Raper." She stuck out her palm for a handshake, but he raised it to his mouth for a kiss instead. "Whoa. I thought men only did that in movies and fiction." "Let me assure you, some of us in real life also kiss hands. Especially Romans, like me." "Hmm," Annie murmured. "I have a soft spot for Romans." Vincente nodded knowingly. "I suspected that, after seeing your manner of dress. I wondered if it was fate that we meet." Annie renewed her smile. A sudden thought flashed through her head. She examined her clothing in minor horror. The plane bumped slightly as it touched down. Annie felt a little dizzy and began to rub her temple with a hand. "Are you alright, Ann?" Vincente asked with some concern. "My head hurts. I must've slept too much." "Is there anything I can do?" "No, no," Annie insisted. "I'll be fine." He watched her for a minute, then asked, "What brings you to Toronto?" "Toronto?!" she yelped loudly. Vincente frowned, so Annie collected herself and replied in a calmer tone of voice. "Yes, Toronto. It's sort of...an open trip. I don't have any plans, really. What about you?" "I'm here mostly for business, perhaps a little pleasure." The flight attendant began to issue instructions for leaving the plane then, so they both stood in an orderly fashion. Well, mostly orderly. Annie wobbled slightly. Vincente removed his briefcase from the overhead compartment, leaving it empty. Annie looked at the compartments on either side and failed to recognize anything that remotely resembled her property. Vincente kept a hand on her elbow as she walked in front of him. Because she continued to feel woozy enough to topple over onto her face, Annie was thankful for the support. As they entered the terminal, Annie gazed about at the throng of faces waiting for friends and loved ones. Maybe someone was waiting for her. No one's face rang a bell, and no one called her name. She sighed inwardly and joined Vincente on the shuttle. As Annie stood pressed against his side, he spoke. "I know this will sound forward, but I have two orchestra seats to hear the Brandenburg Concertos at the Hummingbird Centre tonight. Would you care to join me?" Annie open and closed her mouth as though she was an aerated fish. She was a woman traveling alone, being picked up by strange man, arriving in a city she hadn't know she was journeying to, and she didn't know where she was staying in it. Surely an acceptance would break one of The Ten Commandments for Females Dating In The Nineties. On the other hand, he was Italian, wore an Armani, and the tickets were for *Bach*. "I'd love to," Annie answered. "Wonderful! I have to get my luggage and retrieve my car from the long-term lot. Can I give you a ride to your hotel?" Annie self-consciously pushed a long, curly strand of her hair behind one ear. "It's probably not very bright of me to admit this, but I didn't make any hotel reservations. I don't have any luggage, either. This was...sort of a spur-of-the-moment trip." "Spontaneity - that a charming trait," Vincente complimented. "That's me," Annie assured him. "I'm so spontaneous, I don't even know how I got here!" They reached the baggage claim, and a decent number of people surrounded the carousel of unloaded suitcases. "Would you mind holding my briefcase while I hunt down my bag?" Annie happily complied, taking the black leather case from his grip. "Thank you. I'll only be a moment." Annie watched as his form was blocked by the mass of travelers until only his dark hair was visible over the crowd. She let her gaze wander to the other people who swarmed about as she tapped Vincente's briefcase against her knees. She softly began to hum a ritornello from one of the Brandenburg Concertos. Two other men caught her attention, initially because they also appeared Italian. The two men then pulled guns from their coat pockets, and Annie found it impossible to look away. The sound of two bursts of gunfire punched through her foggy brain like a knife through tissue paper. Screams followed, members of the crowd pushed and ran, but Annie was frozen to the spot as she stared at the two men hiding their weapons and running away. They'd gone maybe a dozen steps before one of the men decided to look back. His eyes made direct contact with Annie's, narrowed, then he turned around again. Then the shooters were gone. Annie suddenly felt capable of movement again. She whirled around, searching for Vincente among those still hovering by the baggage claim. His head no longer towered above the others. The crowd gradually parted, offering up a view of the injured party sprawled on the floor. Annie stumbled forward, clutching the briefcase to her chest like a lifeline. Her vision focused on a hand, an arm, a body - she recognized them. She must have made some noise that conveyed this to those blocking her way, for they seemed to clear a path for her approach. Annie fell to her knees at Vincente's side and let his briefcase tumble to the floor. Blood trickled down his forehead and seeped from his chest, soaking into the pale fabric of her costume as she huddled close. "Have you called an ambulance?" she shouted. "They're on the way," someone assured her. Vincente opened his eyes suddenly, their storm-gray searching out Annie's brown ones. His mouth spread into a smile as if he was pleased to see her there. She heard herself cough out a sob as she tried to return his smile. His eyes were full of hope and life for several seconds, then they emptied. He was gone. The paramedics finally rushed onto the scene, and Annie picked the briefcase up once more as she crawled out of their way. She watched bleakly as their attempts to revive Vincente failed. A new hand tugged her arm, aiming to get her attention, and she ignored it. The hand pulled on her once more, this time combined with a new voice. She looked up and saw a police officer. "We're going to have to ask you some questions, miss." He led her away from the scene, but Annie looked behind just in time to see the emergency crew pull a shroud over Vincente's head. Her mind whirled. "What am I doing here?" ********************************************************************** "What I want to know is, when someone gets shot up at the airport an hour before I come on duty, how come the Captain always decides that it's the perfect time to call me?" "I don't know, Detective Schanke, perhaps I have you confused with a homicide detective who's conscientious and devoted to his job." Amanda Cohen's voice caught up with him from behind, and Schanke flinched. "I'll have to remember my mistake in the future." "Captain, you know I didn't mean -" "Can it, Schanke. I've got work for you to do. I want us cleared out of here as soon as possible. It's bad enough having this happen at an international airport without having reputed mob connections involved. I want you to get statements and get everyone out of here an hour ago." Cohen noticed Schanke staring puzzledly off into the distance. "What is it, Detective?" Schanke shrugged. "Nothing. I've just never seen a Hare Krishna with so much hair before." She followed the direction of his gaze and rolled her eyes. "That's our prime witness you're talking about - she can I.D. the trigger men. Some of the other by-standers said she knew him. Maybe they were traveling together. I want you to get her statement first, then take her back to the precinct to make composite when your partner gets here. Most importantly, I want you to treat her with kid gloves." "Sure thing, Captain." Schanke strolled over to the primary witness and cleared his throat as he reached her side. She jumped, snapped her head around, and Schanke did a double-take. "Oh, man, pardon me for staring," he said, "but you look a lot like -" "The coroner - I know." "Hey! Your name's not Lambert, by any chance, is it?" She shook her head. "No. It's Raper. Annie Raper." ************************************************************************* End O' Part Two Better Than Chocolate By Bonnie and Jules Part Three: Time: Still Friday, but after sunset Place: Still at Pearson Airport, Toronto When Nick arrived, Schanke was interviewing the last of the by-standers. As he finished, he turned to greet Nick. "Howdy, partner. You've missed the boring legwork again, you lucky dog. Hell, you almost missed the crime scene." Nick glanced around with a grin. "I was wondering about that, Schanke. Where is everybody? For that matter, where's the body?" "Gone. Packed up and shipped out. The Captain wanted the place cleaned up pronto. The prime witness is the only one left. She's a tourist named Annie Raper. Man, she has a recipe for tiramisu that Myra'd kill for!" Nick grinned mischievously. "Are you suggesting that as a motive, Schank?" "Oh, yeah, right. Make your jokes. All I know is I got her to write it down, and by next weekend, I will be feasting with the gods." Nick laughed. "Okay, I'll take your word for it. So where are you keeping this culinary muse?" Schanke motioned with his head. "Over there. You can't miss her. She's the woman in the toga who looks like Nat, but with brown eyes." "You're kidding." Schanke shook his head insistently as he scribbled in a notepad. "Nope. Go get her and see for yourself. I have to finish writing a few details about that last witness." *********************************************************************** Annie knew that she'd been waiting at least an hour, and it was driving her crazy. Ever since the uniforms stopped directing the foot traffic and left, tourists had been passing her by, giving strange looks to her and her bloodied toga. After a while, Annie began to give strange looks back. She still had Vincente's briefcase clutched by her side. No one had asked for it, and she hadn't offered. Perhaps the police believed the case was hers. Annie ran her hands over the smooth black leather, stopping at a pocket that took up half of one side. She slipped her fingers inside to see if the opening contained anything. Encountering several rectangular paper objects, Annie pulled them out for closer inspection. There was a wad of Canadian bills, ranging from twenties to hundreds. Vincente must have absentmindedly stuffed them here instead of opening his wallet. Annie returned the money to the pocket and examined the remaining objects: the pair of tickets to hear Bach. She tried to study the billets objectively, mulling over the ethical issue of when a date exactly became null and void. Technically one of them was hers, wasn't it? Annie slid a ticket into the folds of her toga and placed the other back inside the briefcase. "Ms. Raper?" She looked up and found that other guy standing over her. "Yes, I'm she. Are you ready to go to the precinct?" He was staring blankly at her, so she tried to jog his attention. "Yoo-hoo...Detective?" Nick shook his head to clear it. "Pardon me, it's just that you bear an unusual resemblance to -" "The coroner," Annie said as she nodded. "I know, I know. Oh, take this," She held up the briefcase as she stood. "It belonged to Vincente...I mean, the victim. I supposed I was still too unhinged when I spoke with Schanke earlier to think of handing it over." Nick accepted the case and noticed that Annie had trouble forcing her fingers to let go of the handle. "Sorry. I guess I'm still a little shaken." "That's perfectly understandable. I take it that you knew him, the victim?" Nick asked casually. "Vincente?" "I met him on the plane. He was in the seat next to me, and we talked. Actually, we were going to go out tonight," she confessed. "Do you always make dates with strange men on airplanes?" "Excuse me?" Annie said as she glared at Nick as though he was an impudent five-year old. "Do *you* always lecture strange women in airports?" She frowned. "Wait, that didn't come out right." Nick chuckled. "I still got your point. I apologize. It's really none of my business." He noticed the blood stains on her clothing and the wary glances she was receiving from the people who walked past. "Would you like to borrow my jacket and cover up?" Annie appeared relieved. "Oh, yes! I would appreciate it. You know, it's like everyone is looking at me as if I'm ripe to sprout fangs at any second. Don't you hate that?" Nick paused midway through shrugging off a sleeve. "Huh?" He inspected Annie's features with concern. Deciding she appeared perfectly innocent, Nick relaxed. "Sure, I hate that feeling." Newly ensconced in his coat, they began to move toward the airport exit. "Where'd you park the Caddy?" Annie asked casually. "Out front. Police work has some perks." She received another suspicious look. "How did you know I drive a Cadillac?" Annie shrugged. "Schanke must have mentioned it during our chat. Is there something wrong with that?" "No," Nick assured her. "I'm beginning to wonder who was interviewing who during your talk, though." "Is the top down? He said it was a convertible, really!" ************************************************************************* Place: Metro Police, 96th Precinct Captain Reese turned from watching the television news and dismally attempted coaxing a few drops of water from the cooler. "Can somebody tell me what kind of world we live in where riots can break out over dinosaur-sightings in an airport?" He crumpled his empty paper cup and tossed it into the trash, then announced to the bullpen at large, "I mean, did it even cross the minds of these people that dinosaurs are extinct?" "Gee, Cap," Tracy argued, "I don't know. What about Elvis and alien sightings?" "What about them? They're just another example of induced mass hysteria due to the sway of popular culture that would never happen if these folks just used a little common sense." "Yeah! But sometimes...sometimes people see something...supernatural. Something that forces them to take stock of how they view the world and the creatures in it. I mean, sometimes people and things show up where and when they aren't supposed to be there. That could make people act goofy." "Right, Vetter. I think you should switch to decaf," Reese grumbled as he looked around the room. "Where's your partner?" "He's finishing up the composites of the suspects in the Leotta case," Tracy answered. "Why aren't you in there with him? I'm telling you - you two have got to start working together. That's what partners do." "I know," she complained. "But what am I supposed to do when nobody calls me to the scene? I had to find out about it from a patrol officer here at the station." "Come to think of it," Reese said as he frowned disapprovingly, "nobody called me, either. What's up with that?" Tracy pouted in agreement. "Sometimes I just feel like I'm some kind of convenient plot device that gets thrown into the story to draw a couple laughs and say 'Eeeehhhhhwww!' It's really annoying." Reese nodded. "I see what you mean." The interrogation room door opened, and Nick and Annie stepped out. Nick carried two printed portraits of the shooters garnered from her description. Annie watched as Nick handed the pictures to Tracy for faxing to all the other Metro precincts and greeted Captain Reese, meanwhile acting as though nothing strange was afoot. Before she had a chance to really dwell deeply upon the oddness of the situation, the news footage broadcast over the television beckoned her full attention. "We're bringing you the first photos of baby Dina Swarr, born today at Adams Field Airport in Little Rock, Arkansas, amidst a riot that broke out when several holiday weekend travelers claimed they saw a veloceraptor using a wheel chair in the main concourse. Apparently the fear of seeing such a creature caused Mrs. Swarr's water to break and enter a rapid labor. There were four injuries associated with the incident, including two executives of Dillard's Department Stores who claim the veloceraptor mercilessly ran them over, causing heavy bruising and multiple contusions. "Airport officials continue to insist that no reptiles are allowed to travel by any of the resident airline services without providing a proper health certificate completed by a licensed veterinarian. They conclude that it is very unlikely, I repeat, very unlikely that a veloceraptor came to the airport for a flight home for Memorial Day. "This brings our newscast to a very serious social issue - Prejudice In The Skies. It is coming to light that the majority of world airlines employ practices that discriminate against potential non-Homo sapiens customers. We have a reporter on the scene in Little Rock interviewing a desk clerk, who asked to remain anonymous, from one such airline. Over to you, Fawn!" The image of a smiling blonde standing next to a young man with a blurry head popped onto the screen. "Thanks, Tawny! Tell me sir, how do *you* feel about your airline's policies concerning non-Homo sapiens clientele?" "Uhh, it sucks!" the clerk answered. "Like, it's speciesism, which is very bad 'cause we're all sharing the same planet, you know?" Fawn nodded sympathetically. "That's a very interesting point. Would you like to share anything else?" "Well, yah! It's not just dinosaurs that have a bum deal trying to catch an airplane. Did you know that dead people aren't allowed to fly without paperwork, either, Fawn?" "No, I did not know that." "And that's only the half of it! This airline doesn't even think about it's undead customers. They might as well not exist!" Annie heard Nick mumble under his breath. "That was kind of the point." "So I just want to send a message," the airline desk clerk cried valiantly over the television waves, "to all you zombies, werewolves and vampires out there - I feel your transportational pain!" "And that's the word from Little Rock! Back to you, Tawny!" The television once more centered on a blonde seated behind a news desk. "Thanks, Fawn. You've brought up several insightful issues there, and until the airline industry deals with them in a sensitive, thorough manner, scenes like this one will, no doubt, become commonplace." The screen switched to a selection of the riot footage. Two auburn- haired women carrying a load of luggage ran in front of the camera, airplane tickets in their teeth. Annie let out a furious squeal. "I should have known!" she groaned. Annie sighed. "I need a Diet Dr. Pepper. Do you have Diet Dr. Pepper around here?" Tracy overheard her question as she returned from faxing documents. "Eeeehhhhwww! Gross! No way! I think there's some Tab in the fridge, though." Annie wrinkled her nose. "Tab?! Eeeehhhhwww! I don't think so. Can I leave now?" "We're just letting her go?" Tracy whispered. Captain Reese nodded. "She hasn't committed any crime, so we can't make her stay." "Plus," Nick added, "she gave an address where we could reach her while she's in Toronto, and it checked out with flying colors." Annie chuckled to herself. She slipped off Nick's jacket and returned it to him. "Thank you for letting me borrow this." "Don't mention it," Nick replied with a grin. "Can I give you a ride anywhere?" Annie shook her head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll just take a taxi." She gave Captain Reese, Tracy and him a wave, then headed for the precinct entrance. Climbing down the station's steps, a conveniently placed cab immediately stopped at the curb. Annie leaned in the front window. "Take me to The Jeweled Peach." ************************************************************************* End O' Part Three Better Than Chocolate by Jules and Bonnie Part Four: Place: A Five-Star Restaurant at an undisclosed address Annie de-cabbed and instructed the driver to wait for her. Entering the lobby of The Jeweled Peach, she walked directly up to the maitre-d', causing some cries of protest from those waiting in line. "My name is Annie Raper. The manager is expecting me. Could you have him come here, please?" The eyes of the maitre-d' bulged momentarily before he exclaimed, "But of course, Ma'moiselle Raper! I will fetch him myself!" As Annie began another spate of waiting, a laughing female voice spoke up over her left shoulder. "My! Do you have a dog whistle hidden somewhere?" "Beg your pardon?" Annie said as she turned toward the voice. She knew she must appear a tad stunned as she took in the other woman's clear, green eyes, auburn curls and alabaster skin. After all, they were incredibly familiar. The other woman took her expression to mean confusion and hurried to explain her comment. "With the way you made that stuffed shirt sit up and beg, I thought you must have a secret weapon." "No, nothing so elaborate, I'm afraid. I just have an interest in the restaurant." "Then, congratulations! The food is sublime here, and the tiramisu's delish!" The woman extended a slender hand. "Hi. My name is Tenny Richebourg." She shook her hand enthusiastically. "Annie Raper. Glad to meet you." The maitre-d' scurried back with tall, harried, thin man in tow. "Ma'moiselle Raper! I was thrilled when I heard you were in Toronto." "I'm sure you were, Monsieur Cabon," Annie said sweetly. "I have a few things that I need you to do for me. First, there's a cabdriver waiting outside that needs to be paid his fare. Secondly, I want you to arrange a table for Ms. Richebourg immediately. She's obviously been waiting much too long." "Certainly!" Monsieur Cabon gestured impatiently at the maitre-d' who fell over himself to do everyone's bidding. "Yes! I see you requested a table for one. Non-smoking, Ma'moiselle Richebourg?" Tenny nodded. "That's right. Unless," she said as she turned to Annie, "you would care to join me?" "I'm sorry. I'm not staying long." Annie's disappointment was evident in her face. "If you'll come this way, Ms. Richebourg?" the maitre-d' prompted. "Maybe some other time, then." Tenny shook Annie hand once more. "It's funny, but I feel as if I know you. Bye!" Annie waved as Tenny followed the maitre-d' out of sight. "Whew! That was a close encounter of the fanfic kind!" she murmured. "Eating alone - eating period - that must be Tenny *before* 'A Lesson In Manners'!" Monsieur Cabon returned from paying the cabdriver. "Is there anything else I can do, Ma'moiselle Raper?" "See that Ms. Richebourg's meal is on the house. If anyone from Metro Police comes looking for me, I'll be indisposed until tomorrow morning, alright?" "But, of course." "One more thing," Annie asked. "Can you get me a Diet Dr. Pepper and pour it into the CERK cup that I keep behind the cappuccino machine?" Once her drink was in hand, Annie strolled from The Jeweled Peach as she sipped. Walking down the street, she paused before what appeared to be a deserted warehouse. She gingerly rubbed the bottom of her cup in a counterclockwise direction, then stepped through the building's front door. **************************************************************** Time: Sevenish Place: Metro Police, 27th Precinct Captain Stonetree propped a hand against his doorway. "Detectives Knight, Schanke - come into my office for a moment." Stonetree took a seat behind his desk and opened a file as the two men joined him. "Close the door," he ordered. Nick complied while Schanke asked, "What's up, Captain? And what are Nick and I doing at the 27th?" "This is fanfic, Schanke," Stonetree answered. "Anything is possible." "Oh," Schanke said, looking obviously confused. "You were saying?" "I'm just trying to reason why we let Ann Raper go wandering out on the streets when there's a mob contract out on her. You see, I assumed, because she's the prime eyewitness to a crime, that maybe she might not be too popular with the guys who committed the crime in the first place. But, then, it's possible that I missed something. You know anything about this, Schanke?" "No, Cap'n. I haven't laid a hand on this case since leaving the airport. In fact, I don't even remember *leaving* the airport." Stonetree grunted in acknowledgment. "What about you, Nick? Do you know what's going on here?" "I let her go," Nick admitted guiltily, "but I'm positive I got a Captain's permission before I did it. She did leave us an address where we could reach her. It checked out." "Good. Why don't you two pick her up before she gets an unfriendly visit?" As they left the office, Stonetree overheard Nick say, "Hey, Schank! Do you know where I parked my car?" ************************************************************************** Annie exited the warehouse, newly clothed in what appeared to be a long gown. The dim street lighting and the black peau de soie cloak she wore hid the details of her appearance. Another conveniently-placed taxi pulled up beside her. Annie got in, being careful to not slam her skirts in the car door. "Where to?" the cabbie asked. "The Hummingbird." ************************************************************************** Time: Eightish Place: A plane, somewhere between Nashville and Cincinnati "Oooo, Patt! That sounds like a rompin' good time! Give me a phone number where I can reach you there, okay?" Jules chatted into the plane phone while Bonnie, who sported earphones, repeatedly sighed dreamily in the seat next to her. "Be sure to send that corn pone on dry ice to my house in TO, okay?" She turned to Bonnie, pried up one earphone, and held out the phone. "Do you want to say anything to Patt?" "Hi, Patt." Jules took the phone back. "Have fun! Bye!" As she broke the connection, Bonnie slipped off her headset and asked, "Did you write up that telegram for us to send Libby once we land?" "I wrote it on this napkin," Jules said as she handed it over. Bonnie began to read aloud. "Jules Lacroix...The Generaless... Lacroix's Personal Addict...Mrs. - this isn't it!" Jules became two-toned. "Uhm, check the other side." Bonnie flipped the napkin over and chose to read silently this time. LIBBY: The Bug has flown! STOP Plan B abandoned in favor of Plan B Two! STOP We will arrive in T.O. tomorrow evening to commence 'Operation: Re-bag The Bug' STOP Do not panic STOP JULES AND BONS P.S. Jules is very sorry about the dinosaur in the airport. She really is. "A-ha!" Bonnie said. "Now I know why you let me drag you along on those tours during our Nashville stopover. You felt guilty about wrecking Libby and Annie's airport!" "It was just a momentary twinge. It passed the moment we crossed the threshold of the Conway Twitty Museum." Jules gave a tiny shudder. "I just don't understand how a woman who cries during Schubert's 'Trinklied' could be so swayed by 'It's Only Make-Believe'! Don't even get me started on Johnny Cash!" "But, but, Jules!" Bonnie whimpered. "He's The Man In Black!" "*Sigh*. Why don't you just listen to your Greatest Hits disc? We'll be in Cincinnati in an hour." ************************************************************************* Time: Still Eightish Place: One of those police precincts "Out for the evening," Nick grumbled as Schanke and he returned to the precinct. "A man she was considering a romantic involvement with *dies* in her arms, and she still makes plans to go out for the evening. I can't believe it." "I can," Schanke said as he fluttered his eyelashes. "He was taking her to hear Bach. I'd jump at the chance if some guy offered to take me to a Bach concert. Wait - I meant Bachman Turner Overdrive. I'm not *that* easy." "Are you suggesting that she took the tickets?" Nick asked. "Well, have you found them anywhere? Have you searched that briefcase she gave you yet?" "It's locked. She wouldn't have the combination," Nick protested. "What about that big pouch on one side?" Nick scrounged through the pocket and produced a wad of money and one ticket. "It's at the Hummingbird Centre," he said as he read, "and we even know where she's sitting." "Let's hope no one else does." ************************************************************************** Time: A tad later Place: The Hummingbird Centre Annie was giddy with delight. She sat in row HH, only four back from the stage, and she was smack dab in front of the first violins. If it wasn't for the empty seat beside her, the atmosphere would be perfect. Actually, both seats to her right were empty, but only one of them due to tragic circumstances. The other person was simply late. She closed her eyes and let the heavenly music pour over her. She was in love with every note and every rest of the piece. Then an usher broke through her melodic cocoon. "Miss? Would you let this gentleman pass?" Annie's eyes incinerated the girl usher. "Isn't seating prohibited except between movements?" she hissed. "It's standard etiquette." The usherette shook her head hypnotically. "No. He must be seated. Now." Annie began to maneuver the deep green silk of her full skirt so that it didn't block the row. "Oh, all right." The usherette left as the man began to step past her. Annie was going to look around him, but some form of magnetism made her look up. Her eyes traveled along his black suit, then dilated as she spotted a sword pin in his lapel. The sword pin. Annie let out a hapless puppy sound, letting go of her skirts so that she could clutch her armrests for support. A heap of silk and crinolines swirled about his legs, leaving him gently trapped. She met his eyes then, their blueness evident despite the dark theater. Annie gladly dived into their depths as though she could swim to the bottom of an ocean. her mind sighed. Lacroix looked down at her with a mysterious smile. He leaned over and enveloped her right hand within his left. Annie felt her knees turn mushy, even though she had on opera-length gloves. With his right hand, Lacroix efficiently scooped up the right side of her skirts. Her eyes widened and she released a tiny gasp. Annie thought. He pulled her hand closer, and closer, then placed it over his own where he held up her dress. Effectively freed from the prison of her skirts, Lacroix continued past her. Annie sighed disappointedly as he sat down. Then she noticed that instead of his own, Lacroix had taken Vincente's seat. On top of that, she was still grasping her gown, and he was staring at her legs. Annie promised herself, delivering a perfectly enigmatic smile of her own. ************************************************************************ End O' Part Four Better Than Chocolate By Bonnie and Jules Part Five: Time: Intermission Place: Bach at the Hummingbird Amazingly enough, Annie eventually became re-attuned to the music instead of the man seated to her right. She had been very distracted, and yet, as the second concerto in F Major burst forth, the sounds had swept her away before they reached the Andante. The audience stood to clap and laud the orchestra at the end of the third piece, giving ample opportunity for Lacroix to divert her thoughts from things baroque. Annie thought as she felt the urge to drool kick in from simply watching him applaud. she lectured herself. She twitched her lips. It really was a tempting thought. The temptation didn't even include the joy she felt from imagining how Bonnie and Jules would die when they heard the story. "I wonder at your delighted preoccupation - they are only hands," he said. Annie's brain gulped. "Of course," she said aloud. "Hands are hands. I was looking at your interesting ring. But now that *you* mention it, you have very long fingers. Do you play?" Lacroix appeared pleased by her question and admitted, "I dabble with the violin every decade or so." "I thought as much." Lacroix's eyes narrowed as he studied her features. "I recognize you," he announced. Annie sighed. "I know. I resemble a coroner, Doctor Nat-" "No, no," he interrupted. "I'm thinking of my personal assistant's friends. She keeps pictures of them on her desk. Ann Raper is the name, I believe." "Oh," she said, "then you're right." "Of course, I am. I am Lacroix. Lucien Lacroix." For the second time that day, Annie had her hand kissed by way of introduction. "You sure are," she murmured under her breath. She kicked herself for wearing gloves. Noting the charge that shot down her spine at the touch of his lips, she decided it was just as well. Bare fingers on her part might have caused an overload. "What did you say?" he asked. Nunkies was playing dumb, but she could tell from the smug look in his eyes that he'd heard every word. What a tease. "I said, 'Where's the bar?' I'm feeling thirsty," she insisted artfully as she moved toward the aisle. "So am I." Annie gave him a taste of his own medicine and pretended that she didn't hear that outright. As he escorted her up the aisle, she changed the subject. "I've enjoyed this performance so far." "I noticed," Lacroix said knowingly. "Really!" Annie said earnestly. "Nowadays, you rarely see all six concertos included on the same program." "Your enthusiasm is refreshing. Some of my assistant's friends have an annoying fascination with Conway Twitty and ABBA." "But I really do adore Bach. As for the concertos, It's a wonderful irony that the man they were written for never even heard them, certainly never paid for them, and probably never looked at the scores, yet who remembers the Margrave of Brandenburg? The patron gained his fame from Bach, not the other way around. I just love the contradiction." "Indeed," Lacroix commented. Annie felt her heart stop one...two...three beats as his arm slid around her waist. "I get the impression that you delight in finding antitheses everywhere." She grinned piquantly. "I agree with you. 'The King and I', for example. Consider the King of Siam. Some would consider that character a tyrant, abusive to his subjects, perhaps even cruel. And yet, it's obvious that he loves his children very deeply. As for accusations of tyranny - well, the man *is* royalty. He is only acting true to his nature. Hypocrisy is so unpleasant, don't you think?" "Yes, I do." Lacroix seemed fascinated. "Please, continue." "Oh, where was I?" His eyes has waylaid her brain again. "Acting true to one's nature," he prompted. "Yes, his behavior is that of a king. At his death, though, it becomes obvious that there is a depth of emotion and caring to the man that those around him never truly understood. I find that contradiction of power and dignity combined with a hidden compassion, an almost warm-fuzziness, to be very sexy." Annie delivered those last words with the seductiveness of a true femme fatale. She was celebrating the fact that she'd actually left Lucien Lacroix speechless when a figure in her peripheral vision made her start in surprise. It was one of the men from the airport - one of Vincente's killers. He was obviously searching the lobby for a particular someone, and Annie laid a private bet that she was the odds-on favorite. She turned around abruptly to hide her face. "What is it?" Lacroix asked, instantly issuing a stern frown. "There's an Italian man behind me, to your left. He's trying to find me, and, if he succeeds, it may prove bad for my health." Annie peered over her shoulder to see if her hunter was still looking their direction, and she managed to make direct eye contact with the Italian. "Damn!" She turned around again and began to frown in panic as he headed her way. "He's seen me - I've got to get out of here!" She attempted a Cinderella impersonation, intending to make a mad dash for the exit and out into the night. Lacroix's attention was still focused on her predator, and, seeing the man pull an automatic free to aim at Annie, seized her by the waist to shield her body with his own. *Thwip!* *Thwip!* She felt it as the bullets impacted his back. "Freeze! Metro Police!" Nick and Schanke entered the Centre in time to see the Italian gaze in bewilderment as Lacroix barely jerked from being shot twice in the back, then make a run for it. "He's headed for the stage!" Schanke yelled. "I'll go around back, Nick, you follow!" Nick jerked his head in a nod, taking in the sight of Lacroix turning around casually as though nothing had happened, as well as Annie's startled expression before he raced after the suspect. Annie ignored the detectives' arrival and departure completely. She chose to examine Lacroix's back instead. In a daze, she reached out a hand to touch him, flinching as her fingers found the bulletholes. He watched attentively as Annie slowly drew her hand back. She stared at the blood soaking the fingertips of her gloves. His blood. She felt it damp and cool against her skin. Her hand stilled in front of her face, just inches from her mouth. She let her lids fall shut and breathed in deeply, and she could swear her nostrils picked up the rich, metallic smell. She opened her eyes and gazed earnestly into his face. "Thank you," she whispered. Lacroix tilted his head as he enclosed her hand with the bloodied glove within his own. He brought the backs of her fingers to rest against his lips. "It was the waste of a good suit, nothing more. Here's to your health, Ann," he murmured, then enveloped a fingertip in his mouth to reclaim his blood. Nick returned in time to see Lacroix set Annie's index finger free and prepare to move on to the middle one. Schanke had collared the suspect just outside the stage doors after Nick flushed him out. He wondered if Ann Raper knew that the shooter was the least dangerous out of the men after her. He cleared his throat. "*Ahem*. Are you alright, Ms. Raper?" "Of course, I am, Detective. Don't I look fine?" She frowned at Nick for intruding. "You look positively delectable," Lacroix assured her. Nick sent his sire a 'You're-Not-Helping' glare. "You'll be relieved to know that we caught your attacker." "Why, that's wonderful! Now I can enjoy the rest of the evening!" Annie said as she looked wickedly Lacroix's way. He looked wickedly back. Nick tried to appear sorry, but failed. "No, I'm afraid I'm going to have to place you under police protection." He attempted to pull her from Lacroix's side, but Annie did not cooperate. "Totally unnecessary. You caught the shooter, you said it yourself. I'm perfectly safe." "Oh, no, you're not," Nick argued. "Oh, yes, I am!" "Oh, no, you're not!" "Oh, yes, I am!" "No - you're - not!" Nick repeated emphatically, finally yanking Annie away from his sire. "There are two suspects, remember? One of them is still running loose in Toronto wanting to use you as target practice." "I guess that is a valid point," Annie admitted, "but police protection? Isn't that a wee drastic? How about I go to The Jeweled Peach and promise to stay put?" Nick shook his head. "No. You said you would do that last time, and look what happened - you went to a concert and shots were fired." He glared pointedly at Lacroix. "Someone could've been hurt." "It's good to know that you care, Nicholas," Lacroix drawled tauntingly, "but, as you can see, no lasting damage was done." He took Annie by the arm again. She gaped as he began to luxuriously roll her stained glove off from the elbow down. "I think I will leave you to the *good* detective's care, my dear. We can't have my entire wardrobe ruined, now can we?" If Lacroix thought the idea of him running around with no clothes on would be an impetus to her agreement, he was sadly mistaken. "But I haven't had a chance to thank you properly for my rescue yet." He chuckled knowingly. "You will." He held up her glove momentarily before slipping it into his pocket. "A memento to remember an eventful evening by," Lacroix said as he finally dropped a kiss on her bare fingers, "and an extraordinary lady." That did it. By the time he was gone, Annie had officially melted. Luckily, Nick was there to prop her up as she lost the properties of solid matter. "Thanks," she sighed. "Well, it looks like you're my new custodian. Custode!" ************************************************************************ Time: Tennish Place: Nick's Caddy, Front Seat (Trust Us, These Two WILL NOT End Up In The Back Seat) "No Way!" "What is the problem now?" Nick sighed. "There is no way I am going to plod around your loft watching cheesy 'Sinbad' movies for days on end! I'd rather die!" "Well, that may be your only alternative." "Why can't I stay at Schanke's? At least he has a dog, and I could make tiramisu!" "And endanger his family. I don't think so," Nick dismissed. "Then what about Nat's? Sidney could be fed, for a change." "You are *not* staying at Nat's." Nick's voice indicated there would be no arguing on that issue. "How do you know so much about everyone, anyway? Next thing you know, you'll be telling me what kind of pajamas I sleep in." Annie giggled mischievously. "That's easy. Black silk." The Caddy swerved and Nick jerked the steering wheel straight again. She looked anxiously at the road behind them. "What was that? A squirrel?" Nick didn't answer. "Alright," Annie continued. "Wherever I'm staying, I'm going to have to stop by the Peach for some clothes." "That, we can do." "There's one catch, though," Annie qualified. "You can't come inside. It's private." Nick shook his head. "That, we can't do. I'm not letting you out of my sight." "You're just going to make me run around in a formal gown for days and days?" "It looks that way." Nick looked pretty pleased with himself. "Hmmph." Annie let her mind wander over alternate plans. She had a twooney or two in her cloak. Any other money or property that she had access to resided at the restaurant. Except... "Jules' place," she whispered triumphantly. "Head for Farnham Street at Avenue Road - I have an another clothes source. Can you pick locks?" **************************************************************** Time: Mid-Morning, Saturday May 24th Place: Cincinnati, WKRP (Sorry... Always Wanted To Type That...) They arrived at the airport with buckets of time to spare, mainly because Jules refused to go see a 'Bjorn Again!' concert the night before, much to Bonnie's dismay. "There are only so many hours for insanity in a day, Bons," replied Jules, "and I'm not that crazy yet." Going to sleep and waking early turned out to be a bonus, because they ended up needing every minute of extra time at the Greater Cincinnati International Airport. First, they had to fight their way past the picket lines. Apparently, the dinosaur incident in Little Rock had ramifications that spread like wildfire throughout the nation. The organization PETS (People for the Ethical Treatment of Species) manpowered a human gauntlet for any potential airline customers to battle through. As Jules and Bonnie gently bodyslammed their way past the mob, PETS shouted epithets like, "Proponents of Humanism!" "Lizard-haters!" "Anti-Undeadists!" while throwing gummi-dinosaurs at them. Bonnie caught a lime gummi-triceratops and bit its head off with enthusiasm, cackling as several PETS gasped in horror. "More! More!" she cried. "Give me your T-Rex and yer wee bitty ankylosaurus! Chomp! Chomp! Throw me a pterodactyl - I'll gladly nibble their wings!" One of the PETS began to cry. "Have you no pity for other creatures? Must you be so speciesist?" she sobbed. Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Have you looked at the T-shirt I'm wearing? Read with me now." She underlined each word printed on the fabric with her index finger. "It says 'COOKIE....MON-STER' - not 'Cookie Homo sapien'! Get a grip!" Jules, however, became heartily indignant. *Nobody* called her an Anti-Undeadist and lived. "How dare you?!?" she shouted to the crowd. "I surround myself with the undead! I am *employed* by the undead, I'll have you know! How many of you can get a HMO from a vampire, hmmm?" The PETS quietened, and all stared meekly at their feet. "We're sorry," one member said. "Yeah, we didn't know. It was an honest mistake," another apologized. "Well, maybe you should think about that before the next time you call someone a bad name," Jules lectured sternly. "Now, shoo! All of you! And pick up those gummi-saurs as you go!" They also had trouble obtaining their boarding passes. "We've been what?!" Bonnie shouted. "Like I said, you've been bumped from the flight to Toronto," the airline clerk replied amiably. "It's part of the company's new guarantee of non-speciesism. Unfortunately for you, that means some of the humans are out of luck." "Is that so?" Jules responded as she arched her eyebrows menacingly. "What if I told you that I'm going to sprout a second head and another pair of arms, which I will pull off and use to smack you from here to doomsday? Do we get our boarding passes then?" Jules settled back in her comfy Business Class seat and took a sip from her complimentary sherry. "Apparently we do, Bons. And an upgrade, no less." ************************************************************************** End O' Part Five Better Than Chocolate by Jules and Bonnie Part Six: Time: Lunch Place: The loft The phone rang. "I'll get it!" Annie bellowed loudly enough so she'd be sure to disturb the sleeping Nick. Nick let out a drowsy groan. "Don't do that. The machine will," he said as he heard her lift the receiver, "pick up." He sighed and covered his head with a pillow. "Nick Knight's Fortress Of Solitude, i.e. Boredom! Annie, the witness in secret protective custody, speaking!" she chirped into the phone. "Mmmmpppffffhhhh!" Nick sputtered behind the pillow. In a flash, he was by her side, yanking the portable away. "Give me that!" He scowled at her as he spoke into the receiver. "Nick Knight, here. Oh, hi, Janette." He made a sound of protest. "No! I didn't mean to sound that way! I'm *glad* that you called!" While Nick extracted himself from hot water, Annie grabbed the newspaper and strolled over to the television set, turning it on manually from the console while she hummed 'Why Can't You Behave?' She'd had quite a good time tormenting him over the past twelve hours. Nick had refused to break into the house Jules used when she worked in Toronto, but, luckily, Annie remembered where she kept the secret, extra key. She pilfered Jules clothes, grabbing a few CERK T-shirt publicity samples that were on hand, plus some slacks and shoes (this was fanfic, so she had no problems with the vagaries of sizing). Just in case, Annie added Jules' slinky, off-the-shoulder black silk dress to the pile. The Nick-Picking began as soon as they reached the loft, only she termed it The Annie-Amusement. Right off the bat, she hid his universal remote in the box that held Jeanne d'Arc's cross. Then she began making phone calls. The first was to The Jeweled Peach, so Monsieur Cabon would not have a fit when he didn't hear from her come Saturday. While he was on the line, she asked for a food delivery, namely bruchetta and roasted garlic. She asked for a double order, so she could share. Then she made Nick pay for the meal. He teetotaled blood in the kitchen while she slowly savored her garlic delicacy. For her second call, Annie decided to indulge in a tete-a-tete with her own personal psychic. She didn't actually have a personal psychic yet, but she found a properly expensive candidate through the phone directory. Nick could certainly afford her getting to know them over, say, a two-hour chat. She'd only been talking for about forty minutes when Nick overheard Annie asking, "You know, I've been getting some very strange vibes today. It's almost as though I've been surrounded by the supernatural. What do your psychic powers tell you about that?" She nodded and made sounds of acknowledgment for a minute, then exclaimed, "Vampires?! Really?! Who?!" Nick rushed over, took the phone, said a quick goodbye, then hung up. "Okay, no more phone calls. It's easier to keep you safe if you stop broadcasting your location." "In that case, can I use your computer?" Nick shrugged. "I don't see the harm in that - just no e-mail and stay off the chat groups." Annie complied, remained a complete angel, and noseyed through his hard drive files instead. She turned beet red when she found two JADFE selections tucked away in an unnamed file. Afraid that Nick was becoming suspicious because of her snickers and guffaws, Annie decided to turn the computer off. She noticed Nick was in the middle of one of his angsting sessions at the piano, playing with a candle. Annie *accidentally* tripped and spilled her Diet Dr. Pepper all over him and doused the flame in the process. He was so upset at having to change his shirt (which, unfortunately, she didn't get pictures of - she could've gotten some mighty fine loot for the scene from a Knightie or two), she almost felt contrite. But 'almost' doesn't tie your shoelaces. Instead of being repentant, she challenged Nick to a few hands of gin rummy. He gladly accepted. After all, he had *centuries* of card-playing experience. He had the urge to teach this ungrateful witness a lesson in manners. He quickly regretted his decision. She was a veritable card shark. Nick didn't lose his shirt, but he did lose all of his autographed Nightcrawler photo stills. After that satisfying incident, Annie decided to get some shut-eye, much to Nick's relief. Morning came too soon, and by ten o'clock she was bouncing around the loft, desperately seeking something interesting to do. Nick fell asleep on the couch almost the moment she deserted her blankie and pillow there. Robbed of her favorite victim, Annie turned her attention to his art collection. His current project looked as though it was a self-portrait. She had tremendous fun with his oils and turpentine, adding in and taking out all the flashback Nick looks: a moustache here, long hair there, and, in one version, she included a cowboy hat. That kept her occupied for over an hour, and she had just finished playing and recovering the painting with a cloth when Janette called. From Nick's side of the phone conversation, it sounded as though Janette needed him to do something artistic. "I'm really sorry, but even if I could get a mortal to drive me over there, I don't have the time to help you decorate today, Janette," he explained earnestly. This answer must not have been sufficient for her, for soon Nick was protesting, "But, Janette!" He squinted and held the phone away from his ear. Annie picked up the sound of a woman screeching something in French on the other end of the line. After a good ten minutes, Janette paused for a breath. Nick ducked his head next to the mouthpiece and said, "It's not my fault no one answered your advertisement. Hey! The loft's on fire - I've got to go!" Then he terminated the connection. Annie turned her attention to the noontime news broadcasting over the television. Tawny Teller was the desk reporter again. There was a snippet about the investigation into Vincente's murder, as well as a brief interview with Schanke about the suspect they caught at the Hummingbird last night. Several of the next reports dazzled her. First, there was a feature about a festival in New Orleans. "It's Mudbug Madness time in the Hurricane Capital of the World! Thousands of tourists and residents of The Big Easy are celebrating their affection for crawfish this weekend in Louisiana, but there's more going on Down South than simply kissing crustaceans. Our field reporter will tell you more. Doug?" "Thanks, Tawny! The Mudbug Madness Festival started out this morning in plain, good fun: lots of zydeco music and gumbo, along with the excitement of the crawdad races. My pick won, by the way!" Annie sprayed Diet Dr. Pepper all over her chair. She'd recognized Patt in the festival footage dancing madly to the music while wearing a giant hat shaped like a crawfish on her head and hugging a life-sized cardboard cutout of Nunkies. "What was that?" Nick squawked. "Performance art, I think." The news report continued. "The day soon turned hotter than a cayenne pepper popsicle as representatives from People for the Ethical Treatment of Species, or PETS, stormed the downtown area. The group demanded that the mistreatment, abuse, and murder of crawfish as a species by that the festival exemplifies end immediately. A riot ensued, forcing city officials and New Orleans police to shut the festival down." Patt appeared again in the news footage, flinging live crawdads at the picketing PETS. "This incident is just one of many amongst the backlash from the milestone event in Arkansas that will forever be known in the annals of history as 'Dinosaur Day In Little Rock'. Back to you, Tawny." Tawny smiled happily into the camera. "Thanks, Doug. Toronto is not exempt from the Pro-Species' Rights mentality current in the United States right now. Our news team is proud to bring you an exclusive interview with the lawyer heading up a class-action suit against the provincial government, Kim Colley." Annie spurted her Diet Dr. Pepper again, this time honestly and truly hitting Nick by mistake. He sighed and left to change his shirt again. "When asked to state her clients' goal for the case, this was Ms. Colley's reply," Tawny continued. An image of Kim appeared on the screen. Annie wondered. "My clients, the bovine species of Ontario, have formed a union devoted to stopping flagrant violations of their rights as non-humans. They have been chattel cattle for centuries, giving their milk, hides, muscular tissue, and, yes, their very lives in the service of Homo sapiens. This slavery ends as of today. We are only seeking fair and due compensation for damages." "What about the implications this holds for the meat industry, Ms. Colley?" "Simple. From now on, steak will only be freely available in cases of cow suicide. As for untimely bovine deaths, their flesh will only be available for purchase if they have filled out an appropriate donor card and made their family aware of this decision beforehand." The camera flashed once more to Tawny, "We'll bring you more on this case as it develops." Annie got up and switched off the set, then began to flip through the newspaper. Halfway through the Want-Ads, a blocked off listing jumped out at her: WANTED: PINATA ARTIST EXPERIENCE A MUST. APPLY IN PERSON AT THE RAVEN AFTER NOON. ASK FOR JANETTE (The Raven is an Equal Species Employer.) "A-ha!" Annie announced. She was perfect for this job, and it was at the Raven, no less. Oh, yes. The job would be hers. But first, to get out of the loft. Annie gave the television a speculative look, then eyed the telephone. Nick was still changing shirts upstairs. She dialed a number. "Yes, Information? Could you give me the number of Ms. Kim Colley?" ************************************************************************ Time: Sunset Place: Pearson International Airport Bonnie and Jules stumbled wearily off the plane after it finally landed at Pearson and deposited them at the gate. They stepped into the terminal and Jules' face lit up. "Look, Bons! Watson and Devo are here to meet us!" she exclaimed. Bons squinted in the direction Jules indicated, and, sure enough, there stood Jules' favorite canine companions. "Watson's even got the keys to the Jeep!" Bonnie remarked. "How did he do that?" Jules shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, I always knew those dogs were smart, but..." "I just hope they don't want to drive us back," Bonnie interjected. "Nah," Jules said. "They hate rush hour." The fearless Jack Russell Terrier and Wonder Whippet had noticed the arrival of their favorite human companion and marched forward to receive greetings, praise, and belly rubs. Once they had been properly adored, the canines relieved the humans of their carry-on bags, moving effortlessly with the luggage handles clutched in their jaws. The dogs showed Bonnie and Jules where they had parked the car and happily bounced into the back, allowing Jules to speed off into the early night with only a short bark to indicate the traffic was better on the 427 than the 409. She followed the dogs' advice, heading south, then taking the proper exits to drive east on Eglinton Avenue, when all of the sudden, there was a siren and blue lights flashed in the rearview mirror. "What?" Jules exclaimed as she pulled to the side of the road. "I'm going the speed limit! My registration and tag are current! What?" They found out soon enough. The patrol officer blinded them with a flashlight while his partner stayed in the squad car. "Were you aware there is a law against any species riding in a car without seatbelts? Your dogs don't have seatbelts. Were you aware of that?" Bons and Jules glared into the backseat, causing Watson and Devo to cover their masks with a forepaw in shame. "I see you two knew about this and decided not to share," Jules announced in irritation, then turned back to face the patrolman. "I've been out of the country, Officer...." She peered at his badge, "Grey. This law must've been passed while I was away." "I don't particularly care for Jeeps," the patrolman sneered, examining Jules' car, "and surely you don't mean to imply that you didn't know about the law? That's really too ignorant for my taste. I'll have to write you a ticket." Bonnie refused to be a party to anyone getting a traffic ticket in her presence. This insistence dated back to a childhood trauma involving Girl Scout Camp. "Tell me, Officer Grey. Are you one of those narrow-minded Anti- Undeadists?" The patrolman looked taken aback. "Why, no! Why would you say such a thing?" "You're writing us a ticket, aren't you?" Bonnie lied expertly through her teeth. "And our little dogs, too!" "You mean, you're...you're both...?" "What do *you* think?" Bonnie drawled. Officer Grey stumbled backward. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to imply - you won't report this to my captain, will you?" "Not if you leave us right now." The patrolman ran to his car and drove off, squealing tires as he went. Bons turned to Jules and commented, "You know, we're both becoming quite adept with our Lacroix impersonations." "It's a good thing, too," Jules said as she revved the Jeep's engine. "Shall we exceed the speed limit to celebrate?" Watson and Devo woofed their approval. Bonnie gave a devilish grin. "Oh, yes, let's." ************************************************************************** End O' Part Six Better Than Chocolate By Bonnie and Jules Part Seven: Time: Guess! Place: The Loft Nick was banging his head repeatedly against the fireplace when Schanke arrived. "Hellooo, Pardner! Are we bright and chirpy this evening?" *Thonk!*...*Thonk!*...*Thonk!*... "No," Nick replied, "we are not." *Thonk!*...*Thonk!*...*Thonk!*... Schanke gave the loft a once-over. "I don't see Annie. Where's she hiding?" *Thonk!*...*Thonk!*...*Thonk!*... "She got away." *Thonk!*...*Thonk!*...*Thonk!*... "Got away? Nick, the gal ain't a criminal. You need to differentiate." Nick stopped his head-banging. "Oh, yes, she is! She's manipulative and maniacal! She needs to be locked up! And she did something with my remote control!" He whined the last part as though his heart would break. "I was wrong! Ann Raper doesn't need protecting - I need protection from her!" "Right, partner," Schanke said as he patted him on the back. "Whatever you say. Annie's a mean, mean girl. She sure as hell knows tiramisu, though!" Hearing Nick's groan, Schanke changed the subject a little. "So she escaped from before your eyes, huh? How'd our girl pull that one off?" "She distracted me," Nick said morosely, "with a lawyer." *********************************************************************** Time: Is Not On My Side, Yes It Is! Place The Raven "You are gifted, cherie!" Janette was thrilled with the decorations hanging from the club's ceiling and clapped her hands together in delight. Annie blushed modestly. "I simply know my way around papier-mache." "Over, under, and inside-out!" Janette insisted as she gestured to the bartender. "Tell her Miklos!" "They are good," he shrugged, seeming more excited to refill Annie's Flaming Diet Dr. Pepper. "Not simply good," Janette said triumphantly, "but tasteful. I've won my bet with those garish 'Paparazzi' people! Pinatas *can* be stylish decorations!" She was right. Annie had fashioned some beautiful objects out of paper, paint, water and glue. First of all, there was a raven, with individual, jet-black feathers and glowing eyes. There were several moons, ranging from different-sized crescents to a full sphere, all of which were surrounded by small papier-mache constellations. Annie and Janette's personal favorite was the bust of General Lucius she'd made. The resemblance was uncanny. The pinata actually made Annie drool. There was also a nice rendition of Nick's Caddy, complete with fins and a trunk that opened to reveal a stack of little papier-mache bricks, filled with Godiva chocolates. It was tasteful, very tasteful, art. ********************************************************************** "How did she distract you with a lawyer?" Schanke laughed. "Well, I don't know," Nick said, flustered. "She talked a lot. Then she started kissing me, and, by the time I got away from her, Ann was gone." "Diabolical, that," his partner commented ruefully. "It's not often a witness escapes while their accomplices use such physical...torture. BWAHAHAHA!" "Thanks, Schank. Thanks so much. I'm going out to look for her or something." Schanke was too busy rolling on the floor to answer. ************************************************************************ Place: Eastbound on West Eglinton Avenue Time: Long enough to get over 115km per hour Music: Blue Hill Theme, Written and performed by David Grohl, from the 'Touch' soundtrack "Okay, so Annie didn't respond to our page at the airport," Bonnie said as she stretched to rub Watson's tummy-tum where he sprawled in the backseat. "Where do you think she'd go first after waking up in Toronto wearing a toga?" "Hmm. Let me ponder that one...The Jeweled Peach is a distinct possibility. She also might have gone to my house - she knows where I keep my secret, extra key." "Let's hit the Peach first, 'kay, Julesy? I'm dying for a decent cappuccino." Devo whimpered softly and nuzzled Jules by the ear. "Devo wants to go home first," she interpreted. "He and Watson want to watch the news. He says it's been really funny lately." Bons capitulated. "I suppose it's the least we can do. They *did* pick us up at the airport." Jules nodded, then suddenly slammed on the Jeep's brakes to avoid smashing into a biker on a Triumph who had narrowly zagged in front of her during a precarious lane change. The helmetless rider looked over his right shoulder and gave them a snappy wave before vrooming ahead. "Hey!" Jules cried furiously. "That slacker on a motorcycle cut me off!" "Well, just don't be chicken - race him down!" Jules pressed the Jeep's accelerator to the floorboard, swerving around a minivan, then a Hyundai. Now she was hot on the Triumph's tail. "Woohoo!" Bonnie shouted, for she liked going very fast. They crossed the screwy intersection at Keele (which reminded Bons of Idlewild Road in Charlotte, making her terribly nostalgic), and, by the time they crossed Caledonia, the Jeep pulled even with the cycle. "Hey, you!" Jules called sweetly. "Slacker on a motorcycle!" The Spaniard riding the bike looked their way and pointed to his black leather jacket with one hand. Bonnie rolled her eyes and yelled over the noise of their motion, "Yes, you. Do you see another slacker riding a motorcycle hereabouts?" He glanced left, right, and behind, then shouted in reply, "I guess not." He gave their vehicle a thorough examination as both drivers ran a red light at Dufferin. "Nice Jeep. How does she handle?" He jerked the Triumph in front of them again, forcing Jules to veer sharply to the left, but with minimal corrections to continue a straight path. "Not bad," he yelled. Bonnie was on the side closest to him now, so she slipped off one of her non-sensible shoes (they were yellow, with cute little white daisies attached, and matched her mini-dress) and threw it at Vachon's head (Yes, it *was* Vachon). It was a good thing Bonnie wasn't materialistic, because after the shoe bounced off his cranium, making him grunt, it bounced, ruined, into a puddle at the side of the street. "So that's where those orphan shoes in the road come from," Vachon commented. "I always wondered about that." Just for that, Bonnie slipped off the other shoe and prepared to pelt it at him as well. They were coming up on the Bathurst intersection, and the light was turning yellow. "So," Jules said as she glared at him, "are you going to explain why you cut us off back there?" Vachon squinted, then blinked, then replied, "Normally I would, but it looks like we're both going to run into a Cadillac - I'll have to give you a raincheck." He did a wheelie, then made a sharp turn. "Wha?!?" Bonnie and Jules exclaimed. Many brake lines screeched throughout the ensuing events. ************************************************************************ (Disclaimer: The preceding fanfic scene was performed on a closed course with stunt drivers. Try this in your stories at your own risk.) Time: After the brakes silenced Place: Kind of at the intersection of Bathurst Street and West Eglinton Avenue, but kind of on the sidewalk, too Music: A funeral dirge, any funeral dirge "My Caddy! My Caddy!" Nick moaned as he held his head in his hands. "What have you done to my poor Caddy?" Jules and Bons were poring intently over the front end of the Jeep, while Watson and Devo hunted over the back, searching for signs of damage. They found none. They then turned their noses to where the Jeep had finally stopped in relation to the Cadillac. Almost a centimeter-and-a-half separated the two cars. "Not to be picky, or anything," Bons said after clearing her throat, "but we didn't actually hit your Cadillac." Nick's eyes almost glowed as he frowned fiercely at them. "No, but *this* did!" He dangled a piece of non-sensible footwear at them. It was yellow with white, applique daisies. He looked at Bonnie's incriminating minidress, then glanced at her bare feet. "Och! I knew I shouldn't have changed on the plane!" she muttered. "I must have let the other shoe fall while my life flashed before my eyes!" "Right, Bons," Jules griped. "Confess, why don't you?" "Just look! Just look at what your heel did to the hood of my poor Caddy!" Both Jules and Bons scrunched up their eyes, trying to find a blemish where Nick pointed. Bons turned to Jules and whispered, "Do you see anything?" Jules shook her head. "I don't see anything. Wait one second." She dug through her purse to find her conveniently placed handy-dandy Swiss Army knife and flipped open the magnifying glass. After a sincere examination, Jules located the damage in question. "Here, look Bons." About an inch to the right of Nick's finger, Bonnie saw a scratch on the paintjob which, after enlargement with the lens, looked like this: | "Wow!" she said bemusedly. "That vamp stuff really *does* do something to your vision!" "You're under arrest!" Nick said authoritatively. He frowned as Devo sniffed improperly at his pants-leg. "And your little dogs, too!" "On what charge?" Jules rebutted. "Reckless driving, shoe vandalism....and," he added as he scowled at Devo, "public drooling!" "Geez," Bonnie said. "I thought that was only against the law in North Carolina." By this time, squad cars had arrived on the scene. Watson and Devo were handcuffed first and carried to one vehicle, and Bonnie went to another. Well, they made *her* walk (bipedalism, y'know, as opposed to homopedalism, ie., hopping, quadrapedalism, ie., Watson/Devo style, or tripedalism, ie., silly walk). She protested ungraciously as they slammed her hair in the patrol car door. Jules was last, no doubt because she appeared the most dangerous. While her arms were drawn behind her for cuffing, Jules spotted Vachon smirking in the background. As an officer tucked her head lower so she wouldn't bonk it on the door frame as she sat next to Bonnie, Jules screamed vehemently in his direction, "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, VACHON! I'LL GET YOU, YOU SLACKER!" He chuckled, amused as they were hied off to the pokey. ************************************************************************ Place: The Pokey Music: Arpeggio in C for Solo Harmonica Watson and Devo sat morosely with their snouts poking through the cell bars, their prison-striped shirts matching their black and white caps. Watson yawned, adding on a little sigh-howl to the end. Jail was boring. "Guard Guy! Oh, yoo-hoo, Guar-rud Guy-yiiie!" Bonnie sang. "Don't we both get one phone call? I want my one phone call!" She jerked her head toward Jules. "She wants her one phone call!" The Guard Guy shrugged. "Okay, you can each have a phone call." He lifted a receiver from the wall and pulled it their way by an incredibly long cord. "Here. You call out the number, and I'll dial it." "Who do we call first, Jules?" "Lacroix. He should be broadcasting right now, but I bet he'll send someone to bail us out. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for those other guys." "And our own natural precocity," Bonnie added. "Do you think maybe he'll come in person? You *are* his assistant! Oh, if he did - my stars!" "Hold your horses, missy! You're going into a premature meltdown!" Jules told Bonnie, then called to the guard, "Guard Guy! Dial 555-CERK, please!" She tapped her foot nervously while waiting for someone to pick up. A techie answered, so Jules identified herself, then asked to speak with Lacroix. A melting smile came over her face the moment she heard his voice. "Jules," he said. "I've been anticipating your call." "You... you have?" she sighed. "Yes, I have." Jules released a relieved breath. "Good. So, will you send someone to bail us out of jail? We really didn't do anything. It was all Nicholas and that tricky Spaniard's fault!" "But, my dear," Lacroix drawled. "I think a night in prison is exactly what you need." "You do?" Jules didn't sound quite as certain. "Yes, I do," he asserted, then added. "One more item before I go, Jules..." "Yes, sir?" "You *cannot* receive an HMO from a vampire." Jules gulped. He'd heard about her comment to the PETS in Cincinnati! "Does this mean I'm fired?" "No, my dear," he gently instructed. "This means your medical care is socialized. You're employed in Canada, or did you forget?" Lacroix laughed and broke the connection. "What'd he say? What'd he say?" Bonnie was practically panting with excitement. Watson and Devo panted because they were dogs. "He said a night in prison was exactly what we needed," Jules said dejectedly. Bonnie stilled mid-pant. "Oh." A pause. "I wouldn't want to disagree with Lacroix's, no doubt, extremely wise opinion, but does he realize that would mean I'd go without coffee for EIGHT HOURS STRAIGHT?!?! The horror!!!" she gasped. "The horror!!!" "Calm down. We still have your call." Bonnie sniffled. "Oh, sorry. I panicked for a second there." "What about Bri? He'll bail us out for sure." Bons shook her head. "Not this weekend, he won't. Sweetie's gone on one of those manly hikes through the Appalachian Mountains. He won't be back until Monday night. How 'bout Libby? She knows our situation." "Alright," Jules said as she handed Bonnie the receiver. "Could you dial 501-555-RATS?" Bons asked Guard Guy. "Thank you." The line rang repeatedly, then there was a click. Libby's voice came onto the connection. "Puckypoo, here! Hubby's off visiting his sister, and I'm Home Alone! Well, actually, I'm *not* alone, so if I didn't answer in person, I'm either out or fooling around with Screed! Bye-bye!!" There was a *beep!*. "Libby, this is Bons. We have an emergency - pick up! Jules and I are in Metro lockup! I repeat: we are in jail, and I don't have coffee! Pick up! I don't think you realize the seriousness of this situation, Libby. You see, if I don't have a constant influx of caffeine to my system, I become very scary, so PICK UP! Oooooo! Libby, I *know* you're there, you...you... butt-o-saurus!" "Hey! Watch your language!" Guard Guy yelled. "There's gentlemen present!" "Sorry!" Bonnie shouted his way before turning back to the phone. "This is so urgent, you would be insane to not pick up, so put Screed down and..." There was another *beep!*. "Criminey!" Bonnie cursed. "Now what do we do?" Guard Guy approached to repossess the receiver. "You've had one call each. Hand it over." "Wait a minute," Jules protested. "What about the dogs? Don't they at least get one call?" "Oh, yeah," Guard Guy said sheepishly. "I forgot. No offense, guys." Watson and Devo barked, accepting his apology. "We better make this one count," Bonnie whispered. "Tell him you'd like to call Patt, boys," Jules ordered as she held the receiver to Watson's ear. A cornucopia of barking, dialing, and still more barking followed. Watson pushed the phone away with a paw when he was finished with the call. "Well?" Jules asked. Watson ruffed. "Great! Patt's catching the three-hour flight to Toronto!" "There's a three hour flight from New Orleans to Toronto?" Bonnie said with disbelief. "For Patt, there is." ************************************************************************* Place: The Raven Vachon arrived at the club looking pretty pleased with himself. He examined the decorations hanging from the ceiling and commented to Janette, "Not too shabby. When do we get to break them?" "Now I suppose," she answered, "but Annie and I are going to save this one." Janette lifted the papier-mache bust of Lacroix from its hook in the ceiling and set it on the bar for prominent display. She took volunteers from the club's guests and handed them each a long, thin stick for object-smacking. "You will all be careful, non? I don't want anyone staked by accident." "Right," Vachon muttered. He'd called dibs on attacking the Cadillac pinata. "As if staking someone on purpose wouldn't crash the party." He swigged back a glass, then let Annie efficiently tie his blindfold. "You do that well." "It's a combination of cross-stitch experience and pretending that I'm trussing a turkey. By the way," she leaned over and whispered into Vachon's ear. "The next time you see Screed you might want to mention it's not nice to wallow in other people's lingerie drawers without permission." "Screed has his *own* lingerie drawer?" Vachon looked confused. Annie rolled her eyes. "Aaahh, go break your pinata!" All the other participants had a head start on Vachon. Apparently the vampires could pick up the minute sounds of the papier-mache art hanging from the ceiling, and it didn't take more than one swing to bust them open, spraying the contents below. The moon and starts were the first to fall, dousing the audience in a shower of silver glitter intermixed with a selection of stylish sunglasses for those dark nights out and about. The bird was bagged next, and the paper raven burst open to reveal hundreds of rectangular pieces of cardboard, some good for a free drink at the bar. The other slips were invitations to a local blood bank's charity gala. Janette reasoned that handing out the invites would add to both the supply and demand sides of that event. That left the car pinata. With one hearty blow, Vachon decimated the entire front fender and suspension. Technically, he took off the entire front. A pile of chocolates spilt forth: dark chocolate truffles, white fudge, and a variety of candy in shades in between. There were also a few rolls of dental floss. "It's funny," Annie commented, "how pinatas are so much more challenging to kindergartners." Vachon pulled off his blindfold in triumph. "Now *that's* how you smash up a Caddy!." Janette and Annie shared a look. ********************************************************************** Place: Chez Libby Music: A sultry tango "Oooo! Be right there, Screedheart! I just noticed the bright and shiny blinking thingie is flashing on the answering machine!" She turned the tango music down a notch so that she could pick out individual words from the recorded message. "It's from Bons! It seems they're finally in Toronto, they've been tossed in jail, and Bonnie's become obsessed with trucks! She keeps saying, 'Pick-up! Pick-up!' That girl is a mite strange," Libby said as she shrugged. "I suppose we might as well go to Toronto - Annie might need her tennis shoes! But first," Libby put a rose between her teeth, "a few dances!" ************************************************************************* Place: The Pokey Time: 3 hours later Another prisoner had recently joined Bonnie, Jules, Watson, and Devo's cell. Bonnie, in her never-ending search for potentially useful information, had struck up a conversation. "So you see, Madame Kiki, I've been absolutely baffled by the whole both-partners-on-their-back scenario ever since I heard about it in the Syndicon reports. I figured since you had professional insight to this sort of thing, you might clue me in on the logistics of that situation." Madame Kiki proceeded to draw Bonnie a picture. "You know, Rodrigo Iwhine covers this in his 'Are You A Kahuna Of Love?' seminars." "Really? I did not know that." Jules broke her attention away from the show-and-tell as she spotted Guard Guy approaching the cell with a 9-inch round plate in his hand. "This is a gift from your family. I believe she said she was your Third Cousin Patt," he said as he slipped the dish between the bars. He peered at the food and wrinkled his nose. "Would you mind telling me what that is?" "A crawfish pie. It's the best kind because she left the heads on - they pop as you crunch 'em. Want a slice?" Jules offered. Guard Guy blanched and turned her down, then made haste in leaving before she began to eat. Jules grinned evilly at his retreating form. "Didn't think so." Jules pulled up her sleeve and buried her fingers in the dish. She dug around for a second, then cackled triumphantly as she pulled a long metal object from the pie filling. Bons watched with delight as Jules rinsed it off in the sink. "Oooh! A file! Talk about a meal with supplemental iron!" Using the file and a few hairpins donated from Madame Kiki, Jules performed a few wiry maneuvers on the cell's lock. Within minutes, the three women and two canines were sprung from the bonds of justice. Madame Kiki handed Bonnie one of her business cards. "Call me sometime if I can return the favor." "Thanks for drawing me a picture!" she said, waving the professional off. "Now that we're free," Jules mused, "how do we sneak past a precinct full of police to rendezvous with Patt?" "Look! A dinosaur!" ************************************************************************ Place: Free! Free at last! Music: Anything from Beausoleil "Patt!" "Jules!" "Patt!" "Bons!" "Arf!" "Watson!" "Rarf!" "Devo!" "Patt!" "I'm sorry. Do I know you?" It was Madame Kiki, getting into the limousine of one of her associates. "She's a prison pal," Bonnie explained. "Yes, and I appreciated that little gift you sent Jules in the crawfish pie. Do any of you dogs and dolls need a lift?" "I *did* take a taxi to get here," Patt said. "And the Jeep's been impounded," Jules observed. "It looks like our vehicular status is that we have no vehicular status. Kiki, we'd love a ride!" ************************************************************************ Place: The Raven Annie sat at the bar, fiddling with the foil of what was formerly a Godiva truffle. She'd waited to change into her pilfered black silk dress after the pinatas were broken so that her clothing (or Jules' clothing as the case may be) wouldn't be flooded by silver glitter. Vachon was checking her new look out when Annie crumpled the foil, let out a disgruntled sigh, then tossed the metallic ball into her empty Flaming Diet Dr. Pepper glass. "It's midnight," she said softly as she rose from her barstool. "That means it's my birthday." "Happy Birthday," Vachon offered. "I won't ask which one. Even around this bunch, that kind of question gets you in trouble." Annie grinned. "Thanks. I thought you ate trouble for breakfast." "Malicious rumors," he said as he motioned to the bust of Lacroix. "Tell me, do you always have to make the decorations for your own birthday party?" Annie snapped her fingers. "It's not my party. It's just a coincidence. You see, two of my friends drugged me and put me on a plane to Toronto wearing a toga and sitting next to a gorgeous Roman guy. Unfortunately, he had something to do with the mob, was shot by two Italians, and died in my arms at the airport." "I hate it when that happens." "It was nice until the blood and guns entered the picture. Suddenly I'm a witness, and the Italians are out to kill *me*. I was at a concert at the Hummingbird Friday night, and one of them just started shooting at me! *Thwip!*...*Thwip!*...I'd have been sunk if Lacroix hadn't saved my life." Vachon coughed mid-swallow. "Lacroix? You do get around." "Things were going pretty swimmingly at that point, and Nick just had to jump in and put me under protective custody." Vachon cringed. "Sounds like a fate worse than death." Annie nodded. "Exactly. Is it any wonder I jumped at the first chance to make pinatas for Janette?" "Hmm," Vachon pondered deeply as he rubbed his chin. "I take it from your plot recap (which I appreciate, seeing as how no one bothered to put me in this story until part seven), there's still one Italian out to shoot you down?" Annie nodded, then Vachon pointed at the entrance. "He wouldn't, by any chance, be that party pooper over there, would he?" "Ack!" she said, recognizing the fellow. "Double Ack! He's spotted me! Hey, Vachon! Show me how to get out the back way." "Right this way." Leading her out into the alley at the club's rear, he commented, "You know that he's still following you. What are you going to do?" Annie nibbled on her lower lip as she thought. "I'm going to make you give me a lift to CERK." Seeing Vachon's askance look, she said, "It's not like you have anything better to do. It's too late for candle shopping." "Well, that's where you're wrong. There's this little wax emporium down by..." His voice trailed off at Annie's glare. "Oh, all right. I'll give you a lift to CERK." ************************************************************************ Place: 96th Precinct Libby and Screed walked into Amanda Cohen's office and began to pile quarters, lint, and miscellaneous bright and shiny thingies on her desk. "We're here to bail out them out," Libby announced. "Bail who out?" Cohen replied as her eyes shot little lasers of fury at the growing bright mound that covered her paperwork. Had this been a comic instead of fanfic, it would have melted. "The two girlies and the bleedin' barkies. We've 'anded you our treasures, now un-in-carcerate them, all fair-like!" Screed explained. Captain Cohen noticed a furry lump in the middle of the shiny pile. She probed it with her pen, realizing it was a semi-nibbled rat. "Uggghhh! Who *are* you people?!" "That's bubble and squeak still wi' some juice to 'er," Screed cautioned. "Good snackins if you don't get 'er all inky wi' yer scribbler!" Cohen dropped the pen in disgust, so Screed scooped up the rat and slid it into his pocket for a later bite-on-the-go. "We want to bail Bonnie Rutledge, and Jules, Watson, and Devo Stafford out of lockup," Libby detailed. "They're innocent baby lambs!" She smacked Screed when he snorted at this pronouncement. "They're innocent, I tell ya!" Cohen raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Even if that's true, and I have grave doubts on that score, I can't help you. There's no one by those names at this precinct." Screed began shoveling coins and thingies off her desk and into his knapsack. "Oh," Libby said. "They must have written both precincts into the story, and they're in jail at the other one." Officer Jenkins popped her head into the office. "Captain, word just came over the wire that a riot broke out over at the 26th after a possible dinosaur sighting. There's been a jailbreak involving quote...'scary crawfish'...unquote, as well. Do you want to send some of our guys over there?" Cohen nodded. "I think we'd better." Libby smiled nervously and shoved Screed out of the office door ahead of her. "We'll be going now. Sorry to have bothered you..." As they left the 96th, Libby could be heard muttering, "Dinosaur riots. Scary crawfish. You know our bunch is involved, and now they've been sprung once more on an unsuspecting Toronto. Shoot! They could be *anywhere*!" ************************************************************************ Place: The Raven "Ah, Nicola! You should cheer up - my party is a complete success!" Janette said. "But, I can't, Janette!" he said in dismay. "They hurt the Caddy!" Janette gave an exasperated sigh. "Again the eternal boy! It was only made from paper and glue!" Nick appeared bewildered. "I'm talking about my car, made from chrome and steel. What are you talking about?" His eyes zeroed in on the bust of Lacroix poised on the bar at Janette's elbow. "Papier-mache, mon amour. What else would I be discussing?" she replied. "Earlier today, when you talked at me, you were having trouble finding an artist. So where did the pinatas come from?" he asked suspiciously. "A visionary by the name of Annie came my way this afternoon. She arrived not too long after I spoke to you on the phone." She ran her fingers over the papier-mache Lacroix's head. "This was our favorite." "Really?" Nick said thoughtfully as he picked up a swinging stick. "And where is she now?" Janette scanned the club's patrons. "It seems she's absent. I haven't seen her since I had to throw a pushy Italian out a few minutes ago." *Smack!*...*Smack!*...went the swinging stick against Nick's palm. "Now if you were Ann Raper, and you could run anywhere in Toronto, where would you go?" Both of the vampires' gazes fell to the bust/pinata on the bar. "Lacroix," Nick said with certainty. He lofted the stick above his head, whispering, "Damn you, Lacroix!" before bonking the papier-mache on the head. The bust now had a deep valley from ear to ear, and small 2"x3" photos of "Lucius In Repose" and a cat wearing a toga spilled forth. "Ooops, I tripped," Nick stated, then stomped from the club. ************************************************************************* Place: Street outside CERK "Are you sure you just want me to leave you here?" Vachon asked. "Positively positive," Annie responded as she returned her skirt to the length it was supposed to be, rather than motorcycle-riding length. "Thanks for the lift." "Anytime," he said and nodded as she waved, then entered the station's front door. A limousine braked at the curb in front of him, and Vachon cringed as he heard a familiar yell. "Look! It's that slacker on a motorcycle! Kiki, Watson, Patt, Devo! Help me grab him while Bons sings ABBA songs at him!" ************************************************************************ Annie paused outside the sound booth to listen to the Nightcrawler's latest monologue. "What people will do in the name of friendship - even the Nightcrawler finds it shocking, gentle listeners. They kidnap, cause brawls and confusion, and go to prison. All of this in the name of friendship. Now that's my kind of friend..." Annie released a mellow sigh. Then she went inside. ************************************************************************** "Nina, Pretty Ballerina! Now she is the queen of the dancing floor, This is the moment she's waited for, Just like Cinderella!" Between Bonnie's singing and Vachon's groans, everyone failed to notice the Italian sneaking into CERK. *********************************************************************** "Hello," Annie said softly as Lacroix turned down the microphone. "Ann," he smiled. "I see that you got away from Nicholas." "Oh, yes," she nodded. "I couldn't stand it a minute longer." Lacroix rose from his chair and walked to where Annie stood in the doorway. "What about your little problem?" "One of my would-be killers is still running around," she admitted, then added cheekily, "but if I'm going to have to have a vampire look after my body's safety, I'd rather have you." He lifted her fingers to his lips, then said, "Far be it for me to disappoint you." ************************************************************************* "Bang! A-Boom-a-boomerang! Dum-dee-dum-dum-dee-dum-dee-dum-dum, Oh, bang! A-Boom-a-boomerang! Love is a tune you hum-dee-hum-hum! By giving it away, I think you know You'll get love in return, So, bang! A-Boom-a-boomerang! It's love!" Vachon tried to distract them. "Look! A dinosaur!" Jules laughed gleefully. "Nice try, slacker, but it won't work!" He tried again. "What if I told you there was a female in peril at the station? A woman went to see Lacroix, and I probably should go save her from herself." "Hmm, maybe I'd believe it," Patt said. "If I didn't already know that you never get involved in stuff like that!" Bons stopped singing. "Wait a sec, Patt." She eyed Vachon curiously. "Does this female have a name?" "Yeah," he shrugged. "Annie." The women whooped, and everyone, including Madame Kiki and the dogs, ran into the station, leaving Vachon suddenly bereft of company. "What'd I say?! What?!" he shouted, then followed them inside. A minute later, Nick pulled up behind the limo and the motorcycle in his bruised Cadillac, then rushed through the entrance also. *********************************************************************** The Italian saw his quarry standing in the sound room threshold, where the door hid all but her left arm and shoulder from view. He slipped his automatic from his holster, preparing to shoot as he assumed a better position. He tip-toed closer. He tip-toed closer still. The Italian was preparing to fire, when all of the sudden he was swarmed by a mob of running women and animals. Losing his balance, he fell against the sound room door, shoving Annie the rest of the way inside (and, coincidentally *wink* *wink*, into Lacroix's arms) and slamming the door shut. Vachon had arrived by this time, and he pushed the gun out of harm's way with his boot toe. "That doesn't look very friendly." Bonnie and Jules were busy knocking on the sound room door. "Annie? Anniebug? Are you okay?" Jules called. Bonnie tried the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. "I think it's locked," she said. In the next instant, the doorknob fell off into her hand. "Uh-oh. It looks like they're stuck in there until Lacroix breaks them out. What are the odds of that happening in a Nunkies story?" "Pretty durn high, I'd say," Jules commented. Nick sped into the hall, taking in the gun, the Italian, the car-wreckers, the people he didn't know, and the slacker in one broad glance. "You're under arrest," he stated. "Again." He noticed Vachon move to leave and blocked his path. "*All* of you are under arrest." Everyone rolled their eyes and groaned. Even the Italian. *********************************************************************** Annie sighed as she found herself in Lacroix's embrace. "It appears the door is jammed. It rather sets the scene for getting to know you," Lacroix murmured, "getting to know *all* about you." Annie's skin tingled. The way he'd said that made it sound like a promise. "How about getting to like you, hoping that you like me?" Lacroix laughed softly. "I've noticed. Suddenly, you're bright and breezy." She laughed in return as she slipped her hands under his jacket. "Because of all the wonderful and new things I'm learning about you, day by day." "Or night." ************************************************************************** Place: Back at The Pokey "You know, Jules," Patt commented, "I think what amazes me most about this entire series of events surrounding Annie's birthday is how you're completely involved, yet you don't even *do* birthdays." "Tell me something I don't know," Jules sighed. "At least, Annie did get Nunkies in the end." "Birthdays or no birthdays, Jules," Madame Kiki said, "it was still a great thing to do for a friend. If it weren't for your involvement, Annie would not be trapped in flagrante delicto with the Nightcrawler during her last scene in the story. You do this selflessly, even though you would love to be stuck in the sound room and have him demonstrate his control panel for you himself." Bonnie let out a piteous whimper. "Thanks, Kiki. Thanks for bringing that subject up," she said as she rearranged her prison-striped miniskirt. "What's a shame is, I don't think Annie knows just how responsible we are for her happy ending." "Don't you think you're being held responsible for enough as it is?" Vachon said, motioning to the prison bars. Bonnie waved him away with a hand. "Nah, this isn't so bad. We were kind of lucky to get that tiramisu recipe from the Italian guy before he was deported." "Remind me to be thankful the next time I throw a dinner party," the Spaniard drawled. Bons turned to Jules. "Is he being sarcastic?" "Yep," she answered, "he's being sarcastic." Guard Guy approached the cell. "Javier Vachon - your lawyer got your charges dropped on a speciesist technicality - you're free to go." "That was fast. She's not my usual lawyer, but with all the publicity lately, I thought I'd give her a shot. Bye, Watson, Devo," Vachon said as he scratched between the dogs' ears. "Goodbye, ladies." They heard the sounds of Vachon running into his temporary lawyer just outside of lockup. Guard Guy opened the main door, and a flushed-looking Kim entered the cell area. "Kim! What are you doing here?" Jules exclaimed. "Well, I just got Vachon out of jail, and now I'm working on you," she offered happily. "I've talked with the Commissioner's Office and everything's fixed. Except for you, Patt," Kim sent a consoling look the Louisianan's way. "The Crown Prosecutor's Office has decided to be a bit sticky about your aiding and abetting an escape charge. You'll have to think of some alternate way to weasel out of that one." Patt rubbed her chin methodically, the glimmer of a wicked thought forming in her eyes. "Hmmm..." Kim continued to speak happily to the rest of the crowd. "As for the rest of you, you'll be sprung in a week and a half!" "A week and a half!" Bonnie whined morosely. "But that's almost *my* bir-" Jules cut her off. "Don't say it," she warned. "And remember - I don't *do* birthdays." ************************************************************************ Fin Send Comments to: Bonnie br1035@ix.netcom.com or Jules KnightGal@aol.com